


A Bottle and a half of Yellow Tail

by vega_voices



Category: In Plain Sight
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-29
Updated: 2010-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-19 18:18:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>She stared at him, considering that, and Marshall held his breath, waiting for her to pull away and walk out of his life</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bottle and a half of Yellow Tail

_**In Plain Sight: A Bottle and a half of Yellow Tail**_  
 **Title:** A Bottle and a half of Yellow Tail  
 **Author:** vegawriters  
 **Fandom:** In Plain Sight  
 **Pairing:** Mary/Marshall  
 **Rating:** Adult. No, really.  
 **A/N:** Most of my fanfiction remains in a specific fanon. It’s something that developed when I started writing SVU fic and the stories just wove themselves together. This however is a true stand alone story that has no basis in anything else I might be writing in the In Plain Sight world. It references nothing except the end of Mary and Raphael, so it can take place any time and maybe (maybe) fit into storylines later. I ramble. But I’m stuck at work and porn is so much more interesting than anything else right now.  
 **Disclaimer:** In Plain Sight does not belong to me. But, if the powers that be are hiring …

 **Summary:** _She stared at him, considering that, and Marshall held his breath, waiting for her to pull away and walk out of his life_

Marshall hadn’t meant for this to happen. He’d tell himself that in the morning, when Mary was sneaking out of bed and he was pretending to sleep, allowing her a smidgen of dignity. When she tiptoed from the bedroom in the clothes he was now pulling off of her, he would wait until her car finally started before rolling out from under the covers and stumbling to the shower in desperate need to wash this mistake from his body.

For years, all he’d dreamed of was this moment – Mary straddling him, her breasts spilling into his hands, the physical proof of his feelings for her pressing between their bodies, but in the back of his mind, the part that knew her better than she knew herself, he knew she’d regret everything when she was sober and more sure of herself. By morning she would either be on the next plane to a new partner in Nowhere, Montana or she’d never let him speak of this moment again.

Logic demanded he stop what they were doing.

His heart, for once, refused to listen to his brain.

Straining against his jeans, he shifted under her, and Mary whimpered. She actually whimpered. Her head tilted back, exposing her long, graceful neck and his mouth attacked, sucking on her pulse point, tweaking her nipples between his fingers.

Maybe they wouldn’t regret this in the morning. He knew better, but right now, feeling her respond to him, he allowed himself to dream that the morning sun wouldn’t come along with it’s favorite companions: hangover and regret.

“God … Marshall …”

Despite the bottle and a half of cheap Yellow Tail between them, her voice was surprisingly clear. Her fingers did not tremble as she pulled his black shirt open, exposing the matching undershirt. Her fingers were soft against his chest – her nails bitten to the quick leaving no tightness or traction but only heightening the feel of her skin dancing along his.

The part of his brain that still worked told him to take control, to be Clark Gable and whisk her off her feet and throw her onto the bed. It told him that if he commanded this moment, she wouldn’t leave in the morning. She’d give herself completely to him tonight and then take back control in the morning not by leaving but by climbing on top of him and having her way.

But when she bit his earlobe, all thought of finishing this first round in the bedroom fled. “Get these off,” he muttered, tugging on her jeans. He wanted to touch her and taste her and feel exactly how she felt right now. Mary complied with his demand, scooting off him just enough to shed her tight jeans and the black panties underneath. He expected her to climb back on him, granting her access to her body despite his still partially clothed state but instead she fell to her knees and tugged his zipper down with her teeth. “Mary …”

This couldn’t happen. In her mouth, he’d last exactly five seconds. But she put her mouth on him, through his boxers, and dragged her teeth along his shaft.

“God … Mary …” On their own accord, his fingers reached out to tangle in her hair, to keep her mouth doing just what it was doing, even through his boxers. She nipped him and then leaned back, looking up at him from her crouch at his feet, and he realized how rarely she ever gave herself over to this kind of vulnerable position. Then, she reached up and popped the button on his jeans and helped them off his body before straddling him again.

“This is a really bad idea,” she whispered, positioning herself just out of his reach.

“I won’t regret it in the morning.”

“You’re drunk, Marshall.”

“No more than you.”

She stared at him, considering that, and Marshall held his breath, waiting for her to pull away and walk out of his life. But she leaned forward and kissed him, her tongue tangling with his, and he wondered if he had the strength to push her away and get the box of condoms in the bathroom.

“I’m still on the pill,” she whispered right before sliding onto him.

In the moment, they both stopped breathing. Whatever pretense they could hide behind in the morning was lost as he bucked his hips up against hers and she tightened her legs around him. No matter what else happened, the line was now crossed.

He held his breath, again waiting for her to pull away or for his eyes to open and his sheets to be stained with yet another dream he could never admit to her.

Mary kissed him and started to move.

***

Mary knew she had a reputation. Throughout the Marshal’s service she was known as the love-em-and-leave-em girl, but there was little cause for that nickname. Her mistakes were many but her bed partners numbered far fewer than the legend expounded upon. It was easier to go home alone than risk connecting to anyone. But if she let the reputation stand, she was left alone more often than not. Marshall knew the truth, of course, but he knew everything.

She really hoped he knew how to handle _this_ because when it came to witnesses, Mary could wing it. When it came to her heart, she was completely fucked.

“Stop thinking.” The voice wrapped around her as his arms took her close and his legs twined with hers. “Please. Because if you think you’re going to get up and leave and I don’t know if I can handle staring at you across the office and knowing you never want to come back to this bed again.”

“I’m not thinking,” she whispered, pressing back against him and feeling his morning erection strong against her backside. Hooking one leg over his hip, she opened herself to him and he complied, sliding easily into her. He was slow, careful, sliding in and out, tormenting her, until in a move that surprised her, he rolled them both and took her from behind, leaving her panting and gasping into the pillow she’d drooled into the night before.

His climax left him draped over her, blanketing her against the world, and Mary bit her lip to keep the tears from falling.

“What?” He whispered.

“What if this ruins everything?”

“We’ll just build a new something.”

“How fucking corny, Marshall.”

“I’m not letting go of you, Mary.”

For the first time in her life, those words didn’t frighten her. She snuggled back against him, grateful for his weight on top of her and the feeling of his body still linked with hers. Once, someone had asked her if she’d ever been in love and she still didn’t have an answer but if love was anything even remotely like this, she could answer with a full hearted yes.

“We’re going to get in a lot of trouble at work,” she murmured.

“You planning on jumping me in the conference room?”

“No.”

“Then Stan will continue to look the other way.”

“Continue?”

“He’s not an idiot, Mary. His job, like ours, is to observe.”

She wanted to argue with him and mention Raphael and how until this moment, they hadn’t been lovers, but she knew he was right. So she closed her eyes and clung to the pillow and willed herself to not push him away and flee to the safety of the office and their desks and the work that kept after them.

Dry lips on her shoulder soothed her somehow and when she breathed deeply, Mary could smell Marshall on her. They needed to shower and she wanted him in there with her. She wanted him to wash her hair and kiss her neck and to heft her up and pound into her in the shower. She never wanted to let go even more than she never wanted him to let go.

The realization frightened her.

“This is crazy, Marshall.”

“Yes.” He kissed her again and she trembled, spreading her legs slightly, arching her hips back into him. He pushed against her stirring inside her body and she again clutched the pillow. “But it’s crazier for me to follow you around like a puppy for the rest of my life.”

“What made you come to this decision?”

“A bottle and a half of yellow tail.”

Mary paused, processing his words, and suddenly started to laugh.

“What?”

“It took almost two bottles of cheap ass Australian wine to jump me?”

“If I recall,” he pushed into her, “you jumped me.”

“Oh yeah.”

“This is still a crazy idea.”

“Probably.”

“I’m difficult, even in the best of times.”

“I know.”

“Marshall …” she gasped and squirmed, needing more than he was giving her.

“Mary …” he bit her neck gently. “Shut up.”

 _~fin~_


End file.
